“I ...”
“No, Francesca.” A long emotional exhale escapes his lips. “The thing is maybe I should have tossed this in the trash, but I didn’t. I’ve been mulling it over, trying to figure out what to do. There’s this instinct that knows something is off. Today it dawned on me that I’ve let someone in—I’ve trusted you—but maybe you haven’t been honest. What’s in that envelope? Open it, and tell me. Then we’ll throw it away.”
“Tuck ...” My words trail off as my fear closes my throat.
“I want what we have,” he says, “but why is this envelope so thick? I can’t stop thinking about it.”
He sits in the chair across from me, facing me with his elbows on his knees.
I pick up the package, slide open the loop, and pull out typed pages and a wad of photographs.
“Photos?” My hackles rise. “That’s an invasion.” I thumb through them with lightning speed—pics of Edward and Harlee, one of Donny as he left the shop, me in Central Park, me with Brogan coming out of Dr.Lovell’s office, me exiting galleries. A tear falls when I see one of me with Tuck as we pick out his Christmas tree. The final one is my last visit to the doctor. Cece laughs as she flashes her new engagement ring from Lewis.
“Here.” I slide them over to him, but he doesn’t pick them up.
“I’m in deep with you, Francesca, and I don’t want to drown—feel me? The morning I walked out of Decadence, I wanted to stay. You scared me even then. You mean so much to me ...” His voice catches. “Just don’t let me lose that, okay? Tell me there’s nothing important in there.”
My hands clench around the pages as he captures my eyes. I want to tell him how I really feel about him, those three little words I rarely use, but it feels so wrong right now.
Loving Tuck is a shot of sunshine under a magnifying glass, sizzling hot and fiery.
And right now, he’s simmering.
He has every right. His gut instinct is right.
I’m terrible. Awful. I should have told him long ago.
I break his gaze and stare down at the papers. My chest tightens at the first piece of information—I wasn’t expecting it. I lick dry lips. “Cece is a former escort—you know that—but I worked for her agency for two dates before I got on at East Coast.”
His expression doesn’t change, and frustration makes my hands clench.
“Does that bother you?”
“It’s not something I want to think about. Did you have sex with them?”
“It was up to me, and I didn’t. I was jobless; then Donny called me.”
“Fine. Go on.” His words are cold.
“I know what you’re doing,” I say. “You’re putting up walls. You’re looking for a reason to ruin us.”
“Do I have a reason?”
Yes.
A brittle laugh erupts as I turn the pages. “And he got access to my medical records. Every single visit with Dr.Lovell. Illegal as shit.”
“Are you sick?”
“No.” With a long breath, I wipe my face, meet his eyes, and shove out the words. Relief and fear mingle inside of me. I’ve waited too long for this, and now it’s too late. “I’m pregnant. I found out the night we met at Café Lazzo. I was sick on the way home, and then ... Tuck, I tried to tell you—I really did, twice. But the timing was off, and we were happy, but I wanted to—”
His face whitens as he interrupts me. “Who’s the father?”
I put my hand to my chest and rub. “Yours. Decadence. She’s yours.”
“Impossible,” he breathes.
A watery smile comes from me. “Who says? We were drunk. It happened.”